


The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent’s Bodyguard

by thewightknight



Series: Ridiculous Crossovers Nobody Asked For [13]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eye Trauma, Gen, Road Trip, post winter soldier, the hitman's bodyguard au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: Natasha had a problem. Well, she had multiple problems, but the one she was currently trying to deal with was a doozy. Somehow she had to get an injured Nick Fury from her safehouse in a DC suburb to the UN Headquarters in Geneva. Steve was in the hospital, Clint was under surveillance, Tony was who knew where, and she’d made herself entirely too visible. As much as she hated to admit it, there was only one person she could conceivably call. Fury would never forgive her for this.





	The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent’s Bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only one who saw the trailer for The Hitman's Bodyguard and went "Oh, hey, Wade Wilson and Nick Fury on a roadtrip!", right?
> 
> I don't know if this will ever be anything more than a one-shot, but if inspiration writes I might add chapters at a later date. Only the muse knows, and she won't spill.

“Bored,” Wade told the ceiling. “Bored, bored, bored.”

Dopinder paused in the middle of wiping around Wade where he lay on the bar.

“I know how you could kill the boredom, Mr. Pool,” he said, and Wade groaned. “You could take me out for another shooting lesson!”

“Or I could just shoot myself in the dick right now and save us all the trouble.”

“That was only the one time, D.P.”

Wade crossed his legs and put his hands over his crotch. “Yes, the one time I put a gun in your hand. Pass. Oh, and stop with the D.P. You lost that privilege when my testicles hit the ground.”

“Sorry Mr. Pool.” Dopinder resumed scrubbing the bar, then stopped again, beaming at Wade. “Oh, I know! You could ….”

Wade was spared the horrors of Dopinder’s next great idea by the opening strains of _Wake Me Up Before You Go Go_.

“Oh, look. A phone call. Sorry, Dopinder. Gotta take this. Just hold that thought. Along with your breath. Call shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he squinted at the screen. “Unknown number. Awesome!” he said to nobody in particular. “Only upright citizens who need perfectly legal services ever call from blocked numbers.” Swiping the screen, he lifted the phone up to his ear. “Please tell me you’ve got something interesting,” he said before the person on the other end of the line could speak.

“Guess what, Wade. It’s your lucky day!”

At the sound of the voice, Wade sat bolt upright on the bar.

“Natasha! Sweetheart! I knew you couldn’t resist my scabrous charms forever. Your place or mine? Wait. Sorry. Not mine. It’s a dump. How about yours? You’ve got plenty of places, right? Shall we play ‘interrogate the merc’ at one of your safehouses? Name the date and time and I’m there.”

There was a long pause before Natasha spoke again. “I am one hundred and ten percent sure I am going to regret this, Wade, but I need a favor.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Bodyguard for a road trip. Better than nothing, right?” Wade said before he knocked on the door. He heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking and put his eye directly up to the peephole. “Here’s Joooohnny!” he called through the door.

The gunshot went straight through his eye and out the back of his head. While he waited for his ears to stop ringing, Wade drew pictures with his finger in the blood splatter on the wall. He was on his third penis when the elevator dinged.

When Natasha emerged, she took in the scene in front of her and shook her head before marching up to the door.

“I told you to wait, Wade”

“I’ve been waiting! See!” He pointed to his handiwork.

Firing off a complicated series of knocks, Natasha crossed her arms and scowled at him.

Instead of the door opening a voice called out “No. Absolutely not.”

“Open the door, Nick.”

“I’d rather let HYDRA get me, thank you very much.”

“Nick.” Natasha packed about fifty different emotions into one syllable. Wade took notes. He knew he’d never be able to reproduce the effect, but he was going to try, dammit, because it was effective. He could hear locks being undone and bolts drawn. The door opened a crack and an eye looked out at them.

“Heya, Fury! Thought that was you! Hey, we’re only going to match for another couple of minutes. We should take a selfie!” Wade pointed at his ruined eye socket. “C’mon! For Instagram?”

“Wade.” Damn, Natasha was good. That actually made him shut up for a couple of seconds. “Get in the damn apartment.” Shaking her head again, she muttered under her breath. “Going to have to clear out now. This was a good hideout.”

“Really?” Wade thought. No, wait. He’d said that out loud. “Probably shouldn’t have brought him here then,” he continued, nodding at Fury.

“Or you,” Natasha countered.

“Or me, yes. Especially me. Not cool, Red. Not cool.”

Growling, Natasha grabbed him by the ear and dragged him across the hallway.

Once the door closed behind him, Fury leaned back against it, arms crossed over his chest as best as he could with one of those arms in a sling. “He’s the best you can come up with?”

“He’s the only one I can come up with, Nick. The folks I’m sure of are under surveillance and we don’t know who else might be compromised.”

“I could be compromised. You never know.” That earned Wade a double set of glares. “Hey, just trying to help!”

“What about Barton?” Nick asked.

“They’re watching him,” Natasha replied. “They’re watching everyone. Even Steve, and it’s obvious he’s not getting up out of his hospital bed anytime soon. And I can’t stay in the shadows. There will be questions and I’m the best person to answer them.”

“Yeah, because you’re the person who dumped everything on the web, right?” Wade piped up.

“I will shoot you again, Wilson,” Fury growled.

“Well, if it’ll make you feel better.” Fury did look a little the worse for wear, Wade noticed. Besides the sling, he had a bandage on his forehead,  and if you looked closely, you could see he was using the door as a prop to help hold himself up. “Hey, did someone shoot you too!? Bunch of times, looks like. Surprised you’re upright. Props, brother!” Nick ignored his raised hand. “No high five? How about a down low? No? Bummer.”

“Look, Nick. I’ve got you this far but they’re on the lookout. If I lay a false trail, the odds are better for you.”

They started arguing again and Wade tuned them out. This might be his only chance to scope out the inside of one of the Black Widow’s safehouses and he was going to take full advantage.

It only took him a few seconds to decide that this was one of the most boring, normal apartments ever. It had faded wallpaper with flowers on it, peeling at all the edges. The sofa didn’t look infested, which put it a notch above his own, but it was still older than he was. There was a matching armchair and a coffee table covered in water rings and cigarette burns. The TV had a faux wood case and rabbit ears, for fuck's sake.

“ _That Seventies Show_ eat your heart out!” Neither Nick nor Natasha paid him any attention.

Further scrutiny revealed a tiny kitchenette with olive green appliances and a carpeted floor and one closed door, which he assumed led into a bedroom.

“It’s settled, then. Wade, you got a car, right?”

“Huh. Oh, yeah. A car. It’s parked in the garage.”

“Okay.” Natasha shouldered past him and opened the door. Wade caught sight of a twin sized bed with a mustard-covered spread and matching shag carpet.

“It’s like being in a time capsule. Where’s the paisley?”

If Natasha wasn’t planning on abandoning this place, he would have suggested an interior decorator.

Two black duffel bags broke up the expanse of eye burning color.

"Enough about the eyes already. We get it."

Grabbing them, Natasha brought them out and dropped them on the coffee table, which groaned under their weight.

“This should help get you there. Don’t let Fury carry either of these. He’ll pull his stitches.”

Wade unzipped them one at a time and whistled. “Guns and money. You sure know the way to a man’s heart, Nat.”

Zipping them back up, he slung the straps over his head and across his shoulders one at a time, balancing a bag on either hip. 

“Okay. We doing this?”

Natasha led them out of the apartment and down the hall. She didn’t bother locking the door behind them. Once they reached the garage she exited before them, scanning the area before giving them an all clear.

“I’ll head out first. Give me five minutes’ head start. That should draw any tails off. Fury – I’ll see you in Geneva. Wade – don’t fuck this up.”

Wade clutched his heart and staggered back. “I’m wounded, Red. You wound me.”

“I’ll wound you,” Fury muttered. He followed Wade out into the garage, though. Natasha pulled out a remote and clicked it and a sporty black number beeped.

Wade whistled. “Sweet ride!”

“It’ll get the job done.”

Fury shot one last desperate look at Natasha as the car door closed, then followed Wade deeper into the garage, grumbling under his breath the whole time as Natasha peeled out in a squeal of rubber.

“That’s bad for the tires, you know!” Wade called out.

Fury blinked, shook his head, and blinked again when Wade led them to the yellow cab parked in the corner.

“Your chariot awaits!” Wade announced as he popped the trunk.

“Seriously? This is your getaway vehicle?”

“Natasha said to keep a low profile. Let’s hit the road, buddy.”

“Not your buddy.” He yanked the door open, the recoiled when Dopinder’s head popped up between the front seats.

“Hello, Mr. Pool. Hello, Mr. Pool’s friend.”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Our chauffeur. Only the finest for you!”

Fury needed help getting strapped in, which soured his mood further.

“Okay, here we go. Hold onto your butts!” Wade announced as Dopinder started the taxi. Fury braced his good hand on the back of the front seat, then let go after a few seconds, scowling at the back of Dopinder’s head as he inched his way out of the spot and down the aisle.

“Do you need me to get out and push?” Fury asked.

Dopinder pointed to one of the signs they passed.

“The speed limit in the garage is ten miles per hour, Mr. Pool’s friend.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey. Dopinder takes road safety very seriously.”

“Is he driving us the whole way? ‘Cause we might get there two months after I’m supposed to testify.”

“Well, obviously not. We can’t take a cab across the Atlantic.”

Fury opened his mouth, but no words came out. He snapped it shut, then opened it again. This time only a strangled groan escaped. Closing his eye, he let his head sag back against the seat. “I should have stayed dead,” he finally said.

“Tried that. Didn’t work,” Wade replied.

“Try harder.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi, [check out my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/profile) for where I’m currently hanging out on this here internet thing.


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